


Lips of an Angel

by dciphoenix



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Action, Angel Blade, Angels, Destiel - Freeform, F/M, Horror, No Spoilers, Romance, The Colt - Freeform, Violence, Zombies, holy oil
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-02
Updated: 2017-02-26
Packaged: 2018-07-19 17:04:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,655
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7370287
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dciphoenix/pseuds/dciphoenix
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Crowley has unleashed a zombie virus that is tearing through the Earth.<br/>Only few remain, can it be stopped? And what involves the Coven?<br/>Read and find out!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Lips of an Angel

**Author's Note:**

> I don't even know where this came from but I can tell you there's **now four **chapters to it.****

_Scotland The year 2020_

Sam parks the red range rover inside the barbed wire fence, he undoes the seat belt and quickly exits the car to pull the giant metal gate shut, he eyes the house inside the now unneeded dry stone wall and makes his way inside, shutting the small brown wooden fence behind him. Sam pulls off the brown leather jacket of Dean's and lays it over the back of the sofa. Which was first his Dad's. A way of keeping them both close. In the kitchen area he spies Rowena making a loaf of bread on the work surface next to the kitchen sink. Her thin hands kneed the doughy mixture, while facing away from him. Catching her reflection in the window, Sam creeps in behind her, stoops and wraps his arms around her slender waist, making her jump slightly.

“Samuel, you'll be the death of me.” Rowena turns round to face him, grins and kisses him deeply. “You're early, dearie. I was making dinner for you.”

His gaze drifts to the lump of unmade bread until Rowena grasps his chin and kisses him again then pulls away. “Sorry, I was thinkin' about Dean.”

“I know you miss him.” She replies, sadly.

“I heard rumours he was coming back.” Sam holds her close as she wipes her flour-caked hands down his dark green t-shirt. “An angel with a family holed up in a rural village told me.”

“I knew there was a reason I made up their wee beds yesterday. I also had a dream I was pregnant.” Rowena arches an eyebrow and looks him up and down. 

“Uh, that's... nice?” Sam gapes and looks at her flat belly cautiously. She'd stopped wearing the long, lavish dresses shortly after they'd moved to Scotland. But she still wore makeup and expensive royal blue, red and black jumpers to wear with her combat trousers every day.

Rowena rolls her eyes and smirks. “Pregnancy dreams are often prophecy for a beginning or a change in one's life.”

“It could be about Dean.” Sam moves over to the kitchen door and locks it before turning back to Rowena. Sam then changes the subject. “I'm gonna get a wonderful cold shower before dinner.” He says, mourning hot water.

“You know, I have ways of warming you up afterwards, dear.” Rowena smiles and returns to kneading the dough, a sinful smile plays on her red lips. 

Hand on the bannister, Sam stops before he places a foot on the first step and he mutters to himself. “That's what I was hoping.”

**

Castiel sees the horde closing in on Dean. Their teeth bared and hands curled in claw-like shapes as they wave their arms at him in the pouring rain. Unknowing or uncaring that it was cold and wet. The rain clouds had turned the blue sky into a black mass long before they had ventured out into the streets.

They'd set out hours ago in hopes of trapping a large horde in a basketball park. Castiel grips his angel blade in his hand then runs it quickly along the metal fence as he stands outside the basketball park, padlocking the gate. “Get over here, you bastards.”

The undead sweep their arms ever closer to Dean, still inside the basketball park as he fires on each one. They die where they fall, Castiel notices until they hear his catcall. He repeats dragging the blade over the bars, drawing their attention. 

He notices their blank, gormless expressions the minute they see him, shining like a precious jewel underneath a street-light in his beige raincoat. Castiel then vanishes from sight. Only to appear by Dean's side in a fraction of a second, the sound of a ruffle of feathers startles the oldest Winchester slightly before he puts his hand on Dean's shoulder.

“Are you ready?” The angel asks. Dean nods and they both disappear into the night. 

** 

Sam slumps on his bed, spreading his knees slightly as he relaxed on the double bed. He crooks a finger and invites the redhead onto his lap. Sam kisses her softly and reaches his hands underneath her top the second she's settled herself on him. Sam pushes the flimsy material up her chest before Sam breaks the kiss and pulls the red jumper over her head. She groans irritated until his hands touch the soft, red lace of her bra before she rejoins her lips to his. Rowena runs her hands down his bare shoulders and arms, wiping off any lingering droplets of water from the shower with her fingers, as Sam hold her small face in his large hands. 

He's only wearing a white bath towel around his waist and can feel her body heat with her being so close to him. Sam moves a hand to the button of her khaki combat pants when a flutter, like bat's wings, distracts him. 

“I'm sensing awkwardness.” He hears the flat, dulcet tones of his friend when he looks up and sees Dean and Castiel standing by the bordered up window across from him. 

“Guys! Dean.” Sam helps Rowena off his lap and hands her back her jumper before he hugs both his best friend and his older brother. “I'm so glad to see you both. How was New York?”

Dean rubs a weary hand down his face. “It sucked.” 

Embarrassed, Rowena dresses and heads to the bedroom door. “I'm going to go check on dinner, I'll also inform the Coven you've arrived.”

Dean looks at Castiel and then his brother. “Are you sure we can trust her?” Dean asks. 

Shrugging, Sam replies. “I know she trusts me, for what it's worth.”

“I'm glad the Coven is on our side. That is if Crowley hasn't got to them yet.” Castiel laments.

Dean grumbles. “Gee, great. Three middle ages skanks on our side.”

“Rowena says they're in hiding.” Sam rifles through his dresser and pulls out a grey t-shirt and a pair of jeans. “They're risking a lot helping us, and so is she.” Sam looks at the door, where Rowena had been a few seconds ago. “She making us dinner so go grab a shower or something before it's done. I know you've both gotta be tired after that and she's washed and dried bedding for you guys and I need to get dressed.”

Dean raises an eyebrow at his baby brother. 

“I'm telling you guys, she's changed. All she wants is to help us stop her son.” Sam sighs and ushers the two men out of the door.

Once out of the room and in the hallway, Castiel looks at Dean over his shoulder before entering their shared bedroom. “Crowley's army of the undead is getting more and more out of control,” Castiel complains and sits on the closest bed to the door. Back ramrod straight and still wearing the beige raincoat. He notices the bedding on his bed is made of a brown material with sunflower patterns with a matching pillowcase.

Dean sighs and lays on his bed, still wearing his clothes. “We'll tell them over dinner, Cas, it's no good bringing a downer on everyone soon as we come back.” Castiel looks over at Dean and sees his bedding is dark blue. “Do us both a favour, shut your eyes for five minutes. They'll wake us when dinner's ready.”

Castiel slowly lays down on the bed and stares at the ceiling for a moment before closing his eyes. “Good plan.”


	2. Anthem of the Angels

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Coven arrive and supply the Winchesters with a plan how to take down Crowley.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I will do my best to upload chapter four of this at 12 pm EST.

Sam nudges apart the salt line by the front door and unlocks it to invite three witches inside. “My Mistress!” A blue eyed witch cries as soon as she sees the Coven's leader. Sam blinks and lets her run past. She runs up to Rowena in the kitchen and hugs her tightly as the other two witches of the Coven eye the Winchesters and Castiel suspiciously. 

“Dry your eyes, child.” The redhead soothes and tucks hair behind the youngest of the three witches' ears. She sports a similar hairstyle to Rowena's only straight and a dark, chocolate brown. “Come, let's have dinner.”

The Coven, Winchester brothers and Castiel sit around a worn, brown dining table littered with pieces of parchment and ancient books. Rowena serves the best she can with the canned supplies Sam had brought back from the outlying villages and the freshly made bread she had made. “Crowley has holed up in a small, though well guarded church in England called The Crooked Spire and hear this,” Rowena smirks, amused. “There's a wee legend about the Crooked Spire dating back hundreds of years saying that Lucifer wrapped his tail round the steeple when a virgin got married inside, which is why it is crooked to this day.” Rowena crooks an eyebrow and runs her fingers over a tatted, browning map of the British Isles. 

The blue eyed witch looks sheepish before adding her information. “Uh, and it's quite a hike from here to The Crooked Spire, you'd be best travelling by Angel Air.” She plays with her hands while the rest of the gang eat.

The small house still smelled of freshly cooked bread as Sam ate his meal, paying close attention to the discussion. “Could work, Cas, can you teleport more than two people at a time?”

“It should work if you all hold hands.” The angel nods and looks down at his bare plate and the glasses of water sat higgledy-piggledy among the books on the dining table. 

“Then it's settled, girls, did you get what I asked you for?” Rowena asks.

The oldest of the three witches nod and pats the brown satchel she wore. “Sam, these are my friends. Lillian, Lucy and Rose.” She touches Sam on the arm and breathes in deeply. “We need you to exorcise Crowley from his meat suit. And I know there's a special wee something you need to do it.”

“What?!” Sam chokes out, dropping his fork on his plate with a loud clatter. 

“I know they're muscles you haven't used in a long time and I wouldn't ask if it wasn't important.” Frowning, Rowena turns to Dean then back to Sam, trying to find purchase in their eyes. “Like what happened with Lilith. Only with my Fergus.”

Sam pulls out of Rowena's grip, drains his glass of water and storms out of the room, taking three steps at a time up the stairs. Rowena, pained, continues the plan. Telling the two hunters the Coven will remain behind and the usual gang will venture into England, plus Rowena. She follows Sam several minutes later and tentatively knocks on the door before entering. “Samuel, you know I'm sorry."

“I know.” The young Winchester answers quietly. He sits on the edge of the bed watching the sky through the non-boarded up window and watches dark clouds gather in the sky over their house and the surrounding fields. The setting sun sits on the horizon, creating a red glow inside a grey mass. Sam shakes his head before Rowena sits down next to him. 

Touching her small fingers to his chin, Rowena kisses him on the cheek. “We can talk about it, it's not set in stone.”

**

Rain pours down the small rectangular windows in the country house. Cass can barely make out the droplets clinging to the glass through the planks of wood boarding up the window. But the moonlight glints each one and brings them to life. “It could be our last day on Earth tomorrow.” Castiel sits on his bed in his and Dean's shared bedroom and looks over at the oldest Winchester. A clap of thunder resonates over the country house.

“I'm usually having this conversation with Sammy.” Dean shakes his head then downs a tumbler of scotch before pouring out another and offering the bottle to Cass until he refuses. He sets the bottle on the night-stand beside the lamp to his right.

“You both usually imbibe vast quantities of alcohol and fatty foods.” The angel nods, remembering past misadventures.

Laughing, Dean answers and raises his glass at the angel. “Those were the days.”

Castiel scoots to the edge of his bed and holds out his hands, palms up in front of Dean. “Hold my hands.”

“What? Why?” Dean grumbles and puts down his glass. “I'm not doing--”

Castiel cuts him off. “Do you remember I can touch another soul? Well, if I do this right, you can touch mine. And read my thoughts, feelings if you will.” Castiel shifts uncomfortably. “That is if we don't both explode first.”

Dean gawks before sighing and pushing up the sleeves of his plaid shirt, only to find them already at the elbows. “Hey, what the hell.” He hold his hands out, palms down in front of Castiel and the angel tightly grabs hold of each hand and recites an Enochian incantation. The angel's eyes turn a bright white and Dean has to shut his eyes from the light while he hears the lamp fizzle and flicker on and off while his eyes are shut. Plunged in darkness, Dean feels a rush of energy like electricity around him, inside him before his consciousness expands.  
Where there would be blankness, darkness, instead there was many dancing colours like fireworks, only not disappearing as soon as they had appeared. There were few, then there were many, but soon the colours were overwhelming and Castiel pulls his hands away from Dean's. He gasps as he looks over at Dean as the hunter pants and puts a hand to his chest. “That was awesome!” Dean says and exhales sharply. 

Castiel on the other hand is calm as always. “It's supposed to be kept secret, quiet until we find a bond mate to love.” Castiel rubs his nape hair nervously. “But seeing as as we're both planning on dying tomorrow, I'd much rather give it to you.”


	3. Evil Angel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Winchesters and friends set off for The Crooked Spire.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have Chapter Four of this ready to go. Let me know when you want me to post it and I will.

Rowena steps out of the bathroom and melds herself with Sam. Looking down at what she's wearing, he sits down on the lavish, black boudoir chair in their shared bedroom. Sam smirks at the memory, that and the giant, metal fence around the small country house in Scotland was what had swayed her decision to hole up in the house in he first place. “You look beautiful.” Sam says and eyes the floor length red dress with red lace material on the arms. Grateful of the moment of calm before the coming storm. 

“Well, I wanted to look like I can, what's that term – knock them dead?” Smiling, Rowena pulls at the green plaid shirt he wore, knowing she had washed it a few days ago by hand. 

Sam cages her small hands in her much larger ones, making them look thin and fragile, and so Sam shakes his head banishing himself of the thought. “We're gonna beat this.” He promises. “I know it seems pretty hopeless right about now, but I promise you we'll beat him.”

Beautiful, amber golden rays spill through the cracks from the boarded up windows, spilling over the floor as Sam steps off the bottom step and into the living room and kitchen combo, the house really was that small. Sam peers at the three witches napping; on each of the two sofas with the youngest one on a pile of blankets on the floor, he grabs his shoes from near the staircase before creeping back upstairs.

He opens the door into Dean and Castiel's room. The two hunters were packing a large canvas foot locker with guns and exorcism equipment. Dean was checking, fixing and loading his and Sam's guns, while Castiel watched, bag in one hand and angel blade in the other. “I'll take that.” Sam takes the bag off Castiel, without a word from the angel. 

“You doin' alright?” Dean looks up at his brother. “Scared?” He asks.

“Damn right I'm scared, and that fear's gonna keep me alive to nail this bastard.” Sam answers through gritted teeth. 

“Amen to that, dude.” Nods Dean and looks at Castiel when he purses his lips, confused why Dean prayed for no reason.

Castiel then, shakes his head, walking over to the two brothers and sandwiches himself between Sam and Dean.

He looks at Sam in earnest. “I will come back for her.” Sam nods and feels him rest a hand on his shoulder, looks over at him doing the same with Dean then carrying them all over to The Crooked Spire. 

**

Castiel watches from afar, hidden by a barrier of raw Enochian energy as he watches the witch without being seen. Rowena pushes the board under hers and Sam's bed where she kept the Book of the Damned and similar witchcraft paraphernalia. Out of sight and out of mind. Sighing as she stood up, Rowena ran a hand over her long curls, looking hesitant of today's outcome. 

A flutter of wings coming from behind her makes her gasp softly. “I have come back for you, Rowena,” Castiel says, proud he'd honoured his agreement to Sam. 

“That you have.” She smirks, coyly, then turns around and he sees her deflate slightly when she meets the angels' blue eyes with her own. “Is there anything you need to get first? Holy oil, a flaggan of ale, kiss from a fair maiden maybe?” Coos Rowena.

“Am I sensing uncertainty?” Squinting, Castiel asks, low and gruff.

Weary, Rowena bites her lower lip. 

“Do you not remember the time you set an attack dog spell on me and cured Dean of the Mark of Cain?” Castiel rounds on the smaller female and urges her to travel with him, a look in earnest in her green eyes. “Are you concerned you won't be able to help the boys?”

He watches as the witch's eyes stare into his own and shrinks, altruism aside for once. “How the devil do you do that?”

“You are powerful as you were years ago. I can see it in you.” Castiel forebodes, now standing directly in front of the witch. 

A wry smile passes over her face and the angel understands completely when she threads her small fingers through his. “What are you waiting for then, feathers?” Castiel tightens his hand around hers and quickly transports her to England.

Chancing a glance at the Spire church from an aerial view in the blink of a human eye, he sees the vast Crooked Spire stretching up into the sky and the crucifix-shaped building of the church many miles below.  
Just as quickly, he stands outside two large, black doors and sets the witch on her feet when Sam runs up to his side. “Dean's gonna try to take on Crowley with a gun and melted down angel blade bullets!”

“What? Why?” Castiel practically growls and marches over to the doors inside the small doorway area in the Church. Worn, pale blue carpets layer the middle of the stone floor as he walks along the smooth, flat stones. A second entrance stands in his way as he raises his palm to blow the second door to smithereens when he suddenly feels himself drain of energy from head to toe. 

Castiel looks at his outstretched hand as if to find the reason why etched into his skin. “Crowley must have angel proofing inside. I have been rendered powerless.”

“Cas, just wait.” Sam huffs out. Pulling out a sleek, black gun and handing it to Castiel, Sam then pulls out a chunky silver one. “You'll keep him occupied with this, it's got no bullets in it but this one has and I've carved devils traps into them myself. Rowena and I will end this once and for all.”

Castiel sees Rowena looking excited for a second before she sighs and shakes her head, sending her long, curly hair shaking. “Samuel, there's something I didn't tell you.”

“What?” Sam's attentions are still focused on the door before she grabs him by the wrist, urging him to look at her. 

She tugs him slightly. “This bloody curse, he unleashed to stop me... it was to kill me. Tch, and he's that stuck up and pig-headed about it all, he'd never begin to think anyone could stop it.” Rowena lightly bit her lip. “Cut off the head and the body will flounder. It's an age-old tradition...” She waves her hand to dismiss the point. “But long story short--”

“We kill Crowley, the zombies will fall?” Looking on in shock and horror, Sam replies. 

“Where they stand.” Rowena grins.

**

Castiel gazes at the large double doors leading into the Crooked Spire as Sam roots around trying to find an alternate entrance. Finding only a single toilet cubicle complete with a small sink. “I might not be able to open the door, but I may be able to pass through it.” Castiel then appears by Rowena's side.

Out of earshot of Sam, Rowena pleads in earnest to the angel. “Then do it! Now!” She half shouts. Castiel puts his hand on her shoulder and is gone without another word. 

Inside the Church, Rowena thanks Castiel and tightens her hand around his angel blade, her other at his collar, pulling him down below one of the solid pews, gracefully sitting on her heels. “This way, Sam doesn't have to exorcise Crowley from his meat suit.” She whispers, her expression grows weary, almost blank before the angel answers.

Castiel nods but because of their size difference looks more like a bow. “Stay here. I'll be back.”

Rowena blinks when the angel disappears and starts to cautiously walk around the outside of the long, dark wood pews, staying on the balls of her feet and being careful not to put the heels down to alert anyone inside. Defensively, Rowena raises the angel blade snug in her right-hand level with her head when spots a crumpled heap of plaid and denim. 

“Dean?” She whispers, the name wrapped in concern tasted odd on her tongue, prodding the tip of the angel blade into his backside.

“Hey, hey, none of that until the second date.” Gruff and unhappy, Dean rolls over onto his back and faces the witch. “Your son sucks, lady.”

She smiles thinly. “Tch, you think I don't know?”

Without warning, Castiel appears, crouched next to them both with an empty canister of holy oil. “I have doused the church.” 

“Yeah, with us inside it.” Dean grumbles and picks himself up off the floor, only to duck down again, face dripping blood from his lip and bruised eye. Peeping a glance at their surroundings and the fourteen-some pews between them and the nose of the church.

“The quicker the outer walls decay, so will the angel proofing.” Castiel says and presses his hand to Dean's wounds, healing them completely. A voice then from the far end carries to the angel and his friends. 

“Hello, boys.”

Says a thick English accent.


	4. Devils Don't Fly

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boys and Rowena face Crowley.

With a meagre flick of his wrist, Crowley opens two big, black oak doors and flings Dean and Castiel through them like they were mere rag dolls. Then closes his hand into a fist, balling it tight as the reverse action locked the oak doors again. 

Crowley, standing proudly in the Vicar's box turns his attention to his Mother. “What do you want, you evil bitch?”

**

Knocked on their backs, the two men heave themselves onto their feet as Sam hulks into view. “Cas! Guys, where's”

“Rowena is inside with her son. I am sorry, Sam.” Castiel stands before Sam, puts a hand on the young Winchester's face, a genuine look of concern in his eyes, his coat marked and dirty. 

“Not your best plan, Cas.” Dean says and dives into the line of bushes and oak trees against the Spire's outer wall and finds the canvas bag he had stashed. 

“You mean burning a church down to cinders with ourselves inside it?” Castiel, face blank, replies in one fluid breath.

“There's always more options than burning down a damn building!” He barks and hands a bullet filled gun to Cas. He thrusts it at the angel and takes the empty Colt from his hands, not having had a chance to use it. “Here's plan B.”

Castiel openly takes the gun but a quizzical expression quickly passes over his face. “Thank you, but, why?”

Dean curls a hand under the angel's chin, and turns his face in hand to look upon a growing horde of zombies slipping between the shadows and the darkness of night, faces pressing between the gaps in the possibly six-foot barred fence topped with spears of black iron. Sam then sees what had caused a fuss. “The noise must have alerted them.”

“You two hold them off, I'll find a way inside.” Sam grits his teeth and clicks the safety off his gun. “I'm gonna enjoy this.” And he's gone without another word, dashing around the perimeter of the Crooked Spire. 

“Sam, Sam! Oh, great, two down and we haven't even started yet.” Dean grabs Cas by the sleeve and pulls him over to the large fence, passing over a patch of green grass and standing side by side with the angel, he tosses the bag on the floor. “We hold these bastards off until they're done inside. Deal?” Dean looks hopeful.

Castiel simply nods. An eerie blue glow starts reflecting off the dull floor and fence, creating the only haze of light in the dark of night. A blue-white glow stretched from Castiel's shoulders and back, Dean couldn't see from where he stood but could hazard a guess his eyes were blue-white, too.

His black shadow wings stretch outwards, plump and feathered once again. Cas then turns to Dean and sees angel's eyes then widen when he homes in on the top of the fence, soon realising what they were both facing was, in fact, a gate. “Dean. It's a gate.” Castiel hisses and looks at the ground and sees a path running from the Spire's front door to the majestic gate in front of them. “It could open at any moment.”

As if on cue, the zombies bang hurriedly against the bars, the glow from Cas alerting them even further; faces twisted in rage or completely blank, some more along than others. Eyes dripping blood from the maximized attack dog curse. Pressing their heads and arms through the spaces between the bars. 

Castiel fires at the front zombies' feet, causing them to stagger back while Dean aims at their faces. All the while the gate squeaks mockingly on its hinges. 

**

Crowley cold cocks Rowena in the face with her own angel blade, she howls in pain as he brings the butt of the blade down on her jaw, marring her pale skin. She crouches, hunched over on her hands and knees on the cold, stone floor. One hand flying to her bruised jaw, Rowena then spits out a mouthful of blood. “Please, please, stop, son!” She shakily moves to stand, eyes downcast, hands in a surrender. “I'm sorry I was a horrible Mother.”

Rowena shoots a glance at him eyeing the blade, in her son's hands, brushing off her words and raises the blade again. “Not good enough.”

“Drop the knife, Crowley!” Rowena watches in awe as Sam strolls in behind Crowley, lock pick in one hand, gun in the other.

“How the hell did you get in?” Crowley seethes, whirling round. 

“North Door, Crowley. For Pagans and Druids.” Sam raises his eyebrows as if to prove his point. Then narrows his eyes too small slits. “You should have studied more.” A barrage of memories flood his mind, of college and his Jess, her long blonde hair, the warmth of her skin, her lips. Instinctively, Sam tightens his hand around his gun. 

Memories fuelling the fire and hate inside of him, Sam takes three long strides to stand in front of Crowley, eyes burning a hole through the King of Hell. Crowley sputters. “You can't defeat me, I'm--”

“You're Crowley, but I'm Sam fuckin' Winchester.” Sam's nostrils flair with raw, savage hate and raising his gun, he fires a bullet etched with a devil's trap right into Crowley's heart, tearing its way through his chest and turning muscle into hamburger.

Crowley staggers back, mouth opening and closing, speechless for once and clutching at the gaping hole in his chest, flowing with blood down his expensive dark suit. Rowena snatches her angel blade from his pudgy fingers and in that one minute everything eclipses in his mind.

They join forces, Sam balls his hands in Crowley's suit, tethering him to his fate as Rowena plunges the angel blade through The King of Hell's spine, severing it in two.  
Sam pushes Crowley onto the blade as Rowena yells as she holds onto it with all her might, fingers curling around the weapon, so tight her nails dig into her palm.

Glowing like a jack-o-lantern at Halloween, the demon that was Crowley quickly fizzled and popped, turning his meat suit dark. Leaving it once and for all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Epilogue to come.  
> ...  
> I'm sorry, this story has taken on a life of its own. I feel like this chapter has been exorcised out of me, as in its a huge relief to be in the public eye so to speak.


	5. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Had this on the back burner since July but never felt truly happy with it. Thought it could work well as an epilogue.  
> Reviews are welcome.

**  
SEVERAL DAYS LATER  
**  
The Scottish Highlands had never been more beautiful to Sam. The rolling up and down hills merging with valleys, the fields and ending eventually at their house being trailed by a rough dirt track. She was indeed right. Rowena even wrapped up in her villainy some five years ago, was still just as powerful. And so far as to guess her prophecy had come true.  
With Crowley dead, the undead had ceased to exist, falling, crumbling to dust where they stood. Just as she had promised. After eyeing the sculpted landscape from the bedroom window, Sam turns the handle into his shared bedroom, quietly, slowly and shuts it behind him, equally as stealthy.

Sunday, they had killed and buried Crowley. Sam had begrudgingly taken a shovel and buried him in one of the many the graveyards in the grounds of the vast Crooked Spire.

On Monday, the first day after she had killed her son; Rowena had sat outside, he had found her in the thin light of the dawn, barefoot and catatonic with grief, gripped tight in whatever cage of emotions she was too proud, too cold to let herself feel. Until he pulled her back inside.

Tuesday, he had persisted her to take a bath, he'd used magic to warm up the cold water and told to stay in it for three hours. Thankfully, she had agreed.

On Wednesday, Sam tried to tell her he loved her. Rowena had pushed him away, telling him she doesn't deserve his kindness. She hadn't let him touch her since. Whispering, so his voice didn't bleed through the walls. “We haven't been intimate since,” Sam tells Dean, sat on Dean's bed, still sporting the same blue bedding Rowena had painstakingly washed and dried by hand the week earlier.

Dean raises an eyebrow, dopey look on his face and sits next to his brother.

“Does your mind always go there?” Sighing, Sam rubs at the crinkle above the bridge of his nose. 

“No. I'm sorry, man. Really, that's rough.” His brother grimaces. “I mean, hell. She was a bitch when we first knew her, but I dunno, man. Now she's just a witch.” Dean shrugs his dopey look hardening. 

Sam gets up to leave. “I'll try talking to her again.”

********

Sam finds Rowena in their bed, bedsheets askew and wearing the pyjamas covered in fluffy, white embroidered sheep he had stolen from her during one of the many grocery store raids. "You awake?” He asks it's not even late, or dark out for that matter. But she sleeps most of the time, not getting dressed, nor wearing make up.

“Indeed I am, Samuel, no rest for the wicked as they say.” Rowena replies, oozing false bravado, and sits up, outgrown fringe falling into her eyes. 

Sam kneels on the bed next to him and makes to kiss her. Rowena moves last minute so he gets her cheek instead. “Hey, I'm not after anything. I'm not Dean, I don't care if we don't have sex for a while.”

A wry smile quirks her lips and she looks up at him, eyes round and sad. “My sweet, selfless Sam.” She reaches her small hands to his large cheeks. “I remember when we first met, evil skank, your brother called me. You both couldn't stand me.”

“That was in the past.” Sam shakes his head. “Just know I'm always here for you. You know I am. Whatever you're going through, don't forget I've seen my fair share of friends and family die too, so, what I'm trying to say is, you're not in this alone.”

**

Once Sam's gone, Dean looks over as Castiel sits across from him, watching children's cartoons on Sam's worn laptop paired with oversized black headphones; powered by the angel grace flowing from his palm as he touches the laptop. Oblivious to the previous discussion between the two brothers.

“It beats having to hear them hump each other at night.” The dopey look returns to Dean's face.

Cas chances a look away from the laptop and at Dean and stares a hole through the hunter's eyes. “Dean, don't be insensitive.” The angel chastises.

Dean pales, uncomfortable Castiel had heard everything he had said. “C'mon, man. This sucks. Let's go do something.” He swings his hands around his waist and slaps his hands together several times.

“Together?” Castiel asks as Dean chews his lip subconsciously. He gets up off the bed, pushing away the laptop which immediately goes dark, lacking his grace. “Where do you want to go?”

“Baby! Aw, hell, man. I need to check if she's okay.” Dean pulls Cas from the sofa, now practically bursting with energy and grabs the wooden Victorian jewellery box they had used for their fake ID's, bullets and the like back in the day. He wraps his fingers around Baby's keys, relishing in the feel of the cold, cut metal once again.

Castiel comes close, grasps Dean's shoulder in a firm grip and they both vanish from view. From Scotland.


End file.
